With practised ease, he raised his bow, pulled back on the string and released the arrow. It soared through the air, arcing high above the crowd and towards the distant bobbing boat. They all strained to see where it would land upon the target. But, even without the porter raising a black flag in confirmation, it was clear that the arrow had struck dead centre – a bullseye.

  The crowd went wild – no one had ever witnessed such an incredible feat before.

  Caught up in his own conceit, the samurai shot the boy a superior look before taking his next shot. This was his mistake. The tiny break in his concentration sent the second shot a fraction off-course. The porter, his eyes wide with alarm, leapt from the boat and into the river as the stray arrow struck the wooden seat he’d just been sitting on.

  This time the crowd broke into laughter.

  ‘It was meant to test his reactions,’ muttered the samurai, trying to cover up his error as the bedraggled porter clambered back in. ‘You’ll be lucky to even hit the boat, boy!’

  Ignoring the samurai’s jibes, the boy positioned himself side-on to the target, forming a perfect A-shape with his body. Jack recognized the motions the boy was going through from his own kyujutsu training – the perfect balance, the unwavering focus, and the combining of the spirit, bow and body as one.

  The boy moved with the fluidity of a single breath and, upon release, the arrow cut through the cold air like a knife. The eyes of the crowd followed it across the sky and towards the constantly shifting target. As it landed, a splintering sound travelled back across the waters to the dock.

  Raising a soggy black flag with a trembling hand, the porter cried out, ‘The boy split the samurai’s arrow in half!’

  More amazed applause burst forth from the crowd.

  ‘I think we’ve found our first young samurai,’ said Jack, grinning at the others.

  The boy placed his second arrow back into his quiver and stepped off the veranda.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ demanded the samurai.

  ‘I’ve nothing else to prove,’ replied the boy.

  ‘Come back here! I’m not finished with you.’

  But the boy continued to walk away. The applauding crowd parted to let him through. Utterly humiliated, the samurai reached for an arrow with which to kill his opponent. Jack was about to shout a warning, when the boy spun round with lightning speed, drew his own arrow and shot at the samurai first.

  But the arrow flew clear past the man’s shoulder and disappeared into the depths of the warehouse.

  With a sorry shake of his head, Saburo leant close to Jack. ‘Are you sure we want him?’

  Laughing, the samurai nocked an arrow and slowly drew back on his bow. ‘Now you’ll pay for your insolence.’

  The boy stood his ground.

  He merely watched as the warehouse’s saké barrels tumbled off their cart, bounced across the wooden dock and hurtled into the samurai. The impact knocked the man clean over the side. With the boy’s arrow having sliced through the cart’s binding rope, several more heavy barrels rapidly followed their victim into the murky depths of the river.

  By the time the battered and half-drowned samurai was rescued, the boy had disappeared into the crowd.

  13

  HAYATO

  ‘Any luck?’ asked Jack, returning to the storehouse with Toge. Having lost sight of the archer boy, the five of them had split up to find him.

  Slumped on his haunches, Sora woefully shook his head.

  ‘Are Yori or Saburo back yet?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Kunio sulked, waving a hand at the empty room.

  Toge clipped the boy round the ear. ‘Show some respect!’

  ‘Ow!’ cried Kunio, rubbing his head and bowing an apology to Jack. ‘But why did I have to miss the Tōshiya contest? Sora could have guarded the rice.’

  ‘We weren’t there for the show! Need I remind you our village is at stake –’

  The door opened and Yori stepped through, a flurry of snow following in his wake. They all looked expectantly in his direction.

  Yori shook his head as he dusted himself down and put his shakujō in the corner. ‘I asked everyone I met, but no one saw the boy cross the bridge or head west out of town.’

  Jack sighed wearily. ‘He would have been perfect for this mission.’

  ‘There will be others,’ consoled Yori.

  ‘Will there?’ snapped Toge, his cheeks hollower than ever in his despair. ‘As poor farmers, we can’t afford proper ronin! All we can persuade are children! And I didn’t see that many young samurai at the contest!’

  ‘There were at least two others,’ countered Jack.

  ‘And how are we supposed to find them now? We’re running out of time. The black moon is only three weeks away!’

  ‘Have faith,’ said Yori.

  ‘Faith?’ spat Toge. ‘Every year I pray to the gods. I pray for rain. I pray for sun. I pray for a good harvest. I pray that we can feed the village. I pray that Akuma won’t come! And do the gods answer?’

  ‘They will,’ assured Yori.

  ‘For you, they might. But not for us farmers!’ shouted Toge.

  Consumed with frustrated rage, he stomped out through the back of the storehouse, leaving Jack and the others to stare at one another in shocked silence.

  Neko appeared a moment later, her eyes panicking. But once she spotted Jack, she breathed a sigh of relief and went back to preparing dinner.

  ‘Please don’t take his words to heart,’ said Sora meekly. ‘He’s upset, that’s all. He always is when Black Moon nears.’

  Nodding their understanding, Jack and Yori settled upon the wooden platform and waited for Saburo to return.

  ‘Do you think he’s all right?’ asked Yori, peering out at the darkening sky.

  ‘He’s probably eating!’ quipped Jack, in an attempt to mask his own unease.

  Another hour went by and Neko served up a meal of plain rice and a few steamed vegetables. They ate in silence, Yori and Jack’s concern for Saburo growing with each passing moment.

  All of a sudden, the door flew open. Jack leapt to his feet, sword in hand.

  ‘I found him!’ cried Saburo, wind and snow swirling into the room.

  Sheathing his blade, Jack hurriedly put on his hat to cover his face as Saburo ushered a shadow in from the cold.

  The archer boy entered, his falcon-brown eyes darting round the room for any threats.

  ‘Please sit with us,’ said Saburo, inviting him to join Yori and Jack on the raised platform.

  The boy’s gaze lingered on Jack, noting his concealed face, but he made no comment. Seemingly satisfied with his safety, he laid down his bow and knelt in a half-seated position. He wasn’t taking any chances – with one knee still raised and a katana on his hip, the boy could react instantly to any surprise attack.

  Neko rushed over with two bowls of steaming rice. Saburo tucked in, but the boy politely waved his meal away.

  ‘I’ve already eaten, with Saburo,’ he said. ‘You may have it.’

  Neko looked to Jack for an explanation. Jack clumsily signed that the meal was hers. Delighted, she beamed at Jack, then bowed gratefully to the boy.

  ‘This is Hayato,’ announced Saburo through a mouthful of rice. ‘I found him practising in the fields.’

  Hayato gave a humble bow, then glanced to where Toge, Sora and Kunio crouched in the corner. ‘I understand these farmers have a problem with bandits.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jack replied, returning the boy’s greeting. ‘Has Saburo explained about the enemy we’re facing?’

  Hayato nodded, apparently unfazed by the prospect of such a dangerous foe.

  ‘And that the farmers can only offer food and lodging as payment?’

  Again, Hayato nodded. ‘That’s more than enough. As a samurai, it’s my duty and honour to protect the rice that feeds our nation.’

  Jack, Saburo and Yori looked at one another. The boy was pure bushido: the ideal that Masamoto always drove his students to attain. They couldn’t wish for a better ally. But there was one more hurdle to overcome.

  Turning back to Hayato, Jack said, ‘If you are to join us, there’s something you should know first.’

  Taking a deep breath and preparing for the worst, Jack removed his hat.

  Hayato’s eyes widened momentarily and his hand edged towards his katana, but his demeanour did not change.

  ‘I presume you’re the infamous gaijin samurai.’

  Jack’s own hand now twitched for his sword. Was the boy intending to kill him for the reward?

  ‘Are there any more surprises?’ asked Hayato, eyeing the three of them warily.

  Saburo and Yori shifted closer to protect Jack. The farmers shrank back into the corner as the tension between the four samurai increased.

  ‘No,’ said Jack.

  Letting his sword hand relax, Hayato smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not seeking you out. In fact, we fought on the same side at the Battle of Osaka Castle. My father was daimyo Yukimura.’

  Jack remembered the man. The samurai lord had been assassinated by ninja during an attack organized by the Shogun himself.

  ‘My father … he talked of you,’ revealed Hayato, a crack of emotion in his voice. ‘You saved his friend’s life, the great daimyo Takatomi. I admire any samurai who confronts a ninja, especially one as deadly as Dragon Eye.’

  ‘I was in the right place at the right time, that’s all,’ replied Jack.

  ‘You’re too humble,’ said Hayato. ‘I like that. I’d be proud to fight at your side against this bandit Akuma.’

  Overcoming their fear, the farmers shuffled forward and bowed their gratitude. Even Toge’s mood seemed improved at the news and he signed impatiently to Neko to brew some fresh sencha.

  As the four samurai sipped their tea, Jack admitted to Hayato, ‘We’ve struggled to find willing volunteers. Do you know anyone else who might join us?’

  Putting down his cup, Hayato pondered this for a moment, then raised a single finger in the air. ‘One boy may be worth recruiting.’

  14

  YUUDAI

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Hayato, the following morning down by the docks.

  Jack and the others were momentarily speechless. The young samurai in question was lugging saké barrels two at a time into a warehouse – other porters could barely manage one cask between two.

  ‘He’s the size of a mountain!’ gasped Yori, who didn’t even measure up to the boy’s hip.

  Jack was equally astonished. This young samurai possessed a broad chest, legs like tree trunks and arms rippling with muscles. His hair, swept up into a topknot, was slick and black as tar, and his face seemed to be chiselled out of granite.

  ‘Yuudai is big for his age,’ granted Hayato. ‘But that’s what makes him such a formidable warrior.’

  A stick-thin woman with narrow eyes and grey papery skin marched out of the warehouse.

  ‘What’s taking you so long?’ she demanded, waving a slim bamboo cane threateningly in the air. ‘We’ve three more shipments to unload. Get moving!’

  She chased Yuudai and the other porters into the warehouse, barking orders and abuse as if she was the Shogun herself. One porter was apparently too slow for her liking and she whipped him across the legs.

  ‘That woman’s worse than my mother!’ commented Saburo as her victim limped rapidly inside.

  All of a sudden a high-pitched scream pierced the air.

  ‘Sounds like the samurai’s had enough of her?’ said Jack, and they ran to see what was causing the commotion.

  They found the woman standing upon an empty cart, her face greyer than ever and her kimono held tight to her skeletal body.

  ‘Kill it! Kill it!’ she screeched, pointing a gnarled finger at a tiny brown mouse on the floor.

  A porter grabbed a broom and tried to beat the creature over the head. But the mouse was too quick. It darted up the cart’s wheel and the woman became hysterical as the mouse scurried about her feet. She jumped around like a maniacal puppet, while the porters struggled to stifle their laughter.

  ‘You, samurai boy!’ squawked the woman, her eyes bulging with terror. ‘Help me!’

  Cornering the little creature, Yuudai bent down and scooped it up in his huge hands.

  ‘Squash it!’ she cried.

  Yuudai, ignoring the frenzied woman, strode out of the warehouse. Going over to the far side of the dock, he released the mouse on to the riverbank and watched it scamper safely away.

  The woman stood at the warehouse door, fuming at him.

  ‘I ordered you to kill the wretched creature!’

  ‘What harm did the mouse ever do to you?’ asked Yuudai, his voice low and gentle.

  The woman’s lips appeared to chew themselves as she sought for a suitably vicious reply. Eventually, she spat, ‘How dare you disobey me! You get half-rations today. Now back to work, all of you!’

  Resuming her tyrannical abuse, the woman lashed out with her cane and the porters scattered to their posts, their moment of amusement over.

  With a weary sigh, Yuudai followed the woman inside.

  ‘A bit soft for a samurai, isn’t he?’ commented Saburo.

  ‘But very strong!’ said Jack.

  ‘I like him,’ said Yori. ‘He respects life.’

  ‘What good is that if he’s facing a bloodthirsty bandit like Akuma?’ argued Toge.

  ‘He’s trustworthy and loyal,’ replied Hayato. ‘That counts for a great deal.’

  Toge still wasn’t convinced. ‘If he’s samurai, then what’s he doing working as a porter?’

  ‘Yuudai has no family left,’ revealed Hayato. ‘He must fend for himself – any way he can. And not many lords are hiring young samurai.’

  ‘Do you think he’d be willing to join us?’ asked Jack.

  Hayato nodded confidently. ‘It doesn’t look as if he’s enjoying his current position. And he needs food to keep his strength up.’

  Turning to Yori, Jack whispered, ‘Remind you of anyone?’

  Yori glanced at Saburo and smothered a giggle.

  They waited until midday when the porters took a short break for lunch. Yuudai sat by himself at the end of the dock, his long legs dangling over the edge, his feet almost touching the water. Hayato made the approach, since he knew the boy.

  Jack and the others watched from a distance as the two of them conversed. Hayato pointed to the farmers, then to the three samurai. Yuudai slowly chewed his food as he listened. Hayato finished and, bowing, awaited his reply.

  Everyone craned their necks, anxious for Yuudai’s response.

  The boy mountain wiped his hands on a cloth and stood – then walked slowly back along the dock, the wooden planks creaking under his weight. When he reached Jack, he stopped.

  Yuudai looked down at him and smiled. ‘Your offer sounds worthy.’

  Bowing in appreciation of his acceptance, Jack asked, ‘When can you join us?’

  ‘Now,’ he replied, collecting his nodachi sword from inside the warehouse door. He slung it across his back. In spite of its extra-long blade, the nodachi looked like a child’s toy in his hands.

  Striding over to her workforce, the withered woman snapped, ‘Stop idling! Get back to work!’

  The porters wearily hauled themselves to their feet.

  ‘Where are you going, samurai boy?’ she demanded.

  Yuudai gave a respectful bow of his head. ‘I have another job.’

  Her face became taut with indignation. ‘If you leave now, you’ll never work here again!’

  ‘That must be a relief,’ said Saburo, grinning at their new friend as they all walked away.

  Staring in rage as her workhorse departed, the woman slammed her cane upon a saké barrel so hard that it snapped in half.

  ‘That’s your fault!’ she squawked, shaking a bony fist at Yuudai. ‘You owe me a new cane!’

  15

  OUT OF TIME

  ‘We only need two more,’ said Jack, as they split up and scoured the town for young samurai. Despite the odds, he was so close to fulfilling his promise to the village. But with market day and the Tōshiya contest over, Okayama had seemingly emptied of potential recruits.

  A whole afternoon went by and they spotted just one young samurai worth approaching. She quickly rejected their offer, saying her parents wouldn’t allow it. But they’d seen the fear in her eyes at the mention of Akuma. Jack didn’t blame the girl, though. Defending the village was no game; it would be a real battle and Akuma wouldn’t take any prisoners.

  ‘Perhaps Saburo and Hayato have had more luck?’ Yori suggested.

  The two of them had gone in search of the brother and sister who’d been at the archery competition the previous day.

  ‘I hope so,’ said Jack.

  A disheartened Sora led them back to the storehouse, Jack and Yori walking beside the mammoth Yuudai. As they wound their way through the side streets, no one dared approach them and, for the first time in many months, Jack almost felt safe. Even when Jack had shown his face, Yuudai had bowed courteously, offering a warm smile and stating, ‘Any friend of Hayato is a friend of mine.’

  A bored Kunio was slouched by the storehouse door, waiting for everyone to return. He almost fell over himself when he saw Yuudai enter. Unable to tear his eyes away, he simply gawped at the new arrival.

  ‘Don’t stare!’ hissed Toge.

  But Kunio remained open-mouthed and in awe of the mighty young samurai. Toge shoved him out of the back of the storehouse, ordering him to fetch some logs for a fire. A few minutes later, Neko appeared with freshly brewed sencha. She almost dropped the kettle when she caught sight of Yuudai.

  Bowing shyly, she poured tea for the samurai with a trembling hand. In her haste, she spilt some on the floor. Her dark eyes widened into massive moons and her face flushed red.

  ‘She’s deaf and mute,’ apologized Toge, pushing Neko to one side in shame at her mistake.

  ‘Let her be,’ growled Yuudai, fixing him with a stern gaze. ‘Most people with ears don’t listen anyway.’

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24